


Imagine Me And You

by NotoriousReign



Series: Crossover Faves [2]
Category: Entourage, Gossip Girl, This Means War (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Multiple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotoriousReign/pseuds/NotoriousReign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the jarring revelation of finding out her ex-best friend is Gossip Girl, Vanessa Abrams can't seem to get away from hearing about it and HIM everywhere she goes. And after an amicable but still heartbreaking end to his relationship, FDR Foster needs to get away before he gets his head back into the spy game.</p><p>Both expected a one-night stand, got a friendship instead... and maybe something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> As someone who doesn't like Gossip Girl's final season (especially the finale) and can go either way over any of the endings for This Means War, I still hope I wasn't too biased staying true to the canon for both. This Means War I'm going by the movie ending where Lauren picked FDR but of course in this they broke up. Hopefully it's not out of character to have him NOT be mean or hurtful about it. And as much as I hate what Vanessa did to Serena and how shitty her apology was, this is not an anti-Vanessa or Vanessa hate fic. I still like her. She was just as flawed as the other characters, even less than some (CHUCK). I hope I wrote her voice well too. 
> 
> I know this is a random crossover ship but I like it and I'd been musing about it for a long time. It's rated T for sexual themes (but it's not descriptive) and swearing. This started out as a oneshot but it kinda got away from me so expect more chapters soon and an appearance from an Entourage character because WHY NOT. :) Enjoy!

**_Vanessa_ **

 

Dan Humphrey is Gossip Girl.

How the _hell_ is Dan fucking Humphrey Gossip Girl?

He’d been my friend for as long as I can remember. We’d have our ups and downs, but I still felt like I knew everything I could about him. Apparently not. Apparently he had a lot more anger and manipulation in him than anybody expected, least of all _me_. Here was my old best friend, who always lectured me and Jenny and _Serena_ about how we were better than the glamorous world that always tried to change us… and _he’s_ Gossip Girl.

Since arriving in New York all those years ago I spent countless ours shocked and caring more about this website’s news than I ever liked to admit. And yet, I don’t think anything prepared me for _that_.

So I took the day off from working on my current muse to process everything I had found out. They didn’t need me on set for Carrie Diaries so I was free for a couple more days. Perfect amount of time to figure this out. And believe me I needed to figure it out.

We still filmed in New York at times but I wasn’t surrounded by people who hated me. At least I hoped so. I probably was, after what happened with Olivia. I still remembered apologizing to Dan over everything me and Juliet and Jenny did but I didn’t do it in time. I still blamed him, which was stupid I know, I should’ve done a better job with my apology, but now I didn’t know _what_ to feel. He’s _Gossip Girl_. He owes _everybody_ an apology.

It killed me, sitting in this little underground bar in Brooklyn surrounded by hipsters who Dan used to fit right in with, that I was probably never going to get any sort of apology because to him I probably deserved it the least.

Well then… what was alcohol for?

 

**_FDR_ **

 

I’m pretty limited when it comes to the women I’ve been with. They’re usually tall, blonde, and easy to talk to. Sometimes brunette. Not always white. I don’t discriminate. Lauren was the first one who challenged me, didn’t fall for any of my tricks and it got me opening up in a way I never expected from myself before.

One thing I learned after that relationship fizzled out was not to close myself off again. It hurt me, it hurt my family, and ultimately it hurt more to be alone with tons of girls over being with someone who understood you.

Plus it didn’t hurt that she was still hot.

We ended… amicably. My job often required me being out of the country and while she never said it, after some time I was able to tell that the worry was getting to her. I couldn’t blame her for it, especially whenever I’d see her interacting with Tuck and my jealousy would occasionally get the better of me. Still, I’m pretty sure with Tuck and Katie’s help she found someone and we had already been drifting. You can’t always prevent these things from happening.

I was happy for Tuck though. Did I mention that? I should mention that. Even after I told him I slept with Katie they decided to work it out instead of letting _that_ hang over them. We’ll see how long she can handle his job too, but for now I was still happy for them.

I just needed to get away for a bit.

Nothing to do with them! I swore tooth and nail, last thing I wanted was for Tuck to feel bad when _I_ had messed up. Besides, I hadn’t visited New York in a long time. All they apparently cared about here was some website. It was a perfect distraction, the perfect getaway.

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

What was the point in going out to the middle of nowhere in Brooklyn when I still have to hear about Gossip Girl? Apparently these people were just like Dan: pretend like we don’t care about contemporary gossip like this site but follow it religiously.

It’s not like I’m any better.

I’m sitting in this cozy bar listening to some high school kids (who shouldn’t be in here in the first place mind you but whatever) in their patterned scarves and beaded bracelets fixated on their phones, pretending like they’re reading Hemingway. I can hear the names drifting out in hushed whispers so I know what they’re _really_ reading.  

Maybe I could have given Dan a better apology than the one I gave him. Maybe I shouldn’t be so stubborn sometimes. But lord knows I didn’t need to care anymore after _that_ revelation.

I had a job where I could travel the world helping with filming projects. I was working on a real set for a TV show. Yes, it was in the mainstream but who cares? I was never the type of person to put those things down. If I did I definitely grew out of it.

Creating and maintaining a site like Gossip Girl for this long was not growing up. Dan had always been perfect for that world.

I don’t need to think about him anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

“Who’s Dan Humphrey?”

Vanessa looked up from her book laid out on the counter in front of her, blinking at the man who sat beside her. He glanced at the kids (because there was no way in hell they were twenty-one to him) mumbling across the other side of the room about the elusive name and turned back to Vanessa with a grin.

She pulled the small glass of her white wine close, trying not to sip at it too irritably. The guy was smiling at her so playfully, nudging his head towards the teens, glancing at other hipsters around them before he ordered his beer.

“Sorry, that’s just all I’ve been hearing the second I set foot in this state. Like I’m coming into a whole other world.”

“It’ll die down eventually.” Vanessa drawled and closed her book. She was mostly only rereading certain bits for work and she could barely concentrate as it is.

This guy didn’t look like he was from anywhere in New York, which was evident since he already said so, but there was also the small tan he sported in the early Spring and the complete disregard for any flannel or skinny jeans that everyone else was wearing. His short messy hair was either auburn or a light brown. It probably depended on the lighting. She’d need a better look later.

Maybe.

Vanessa hadn’t parted with her bohemian fashion style just yet so she blended in well where she was, but even she was aware that this place could come across as pretentious. It _did_ come across as pretentious. It was easy to ignore for her because it was better than being at a club or one of those high-end galas she used to attend.

The memory of those just annoyed her further but her thoughts were interrupted when more people started filing into the area. She could smell the spring rain above them, could feel the spring chill starting.

The guy next to her drank his beer, stared up at the television playing the an indie music network and then shook his head.

“Where’re you from?”

“Los Angeles.”

Vanessa gave that a thoughtful nod. She pushed a strand of curly brown hair back that she’d twisted into a fun elaborate ponytail earlier, but it was already coming undone.

“Well think of it like the tabloids from there. Everything’s just internet-based now.”

“Makes sense. But it sounds like this… Gossip Girl was an anonymous source who only cared about… _specific_ rich people. I mean yeah we care in L.A. but that’s because we’re sorta surrounded by it. We don’t just talk specifically about one friend-group.”

He was right and from the twinkle in his surprisingly vibrant blue eyes (the lighting showed _those_ well) Vanessa saw that he knew it too. He raised his eyebrows and smiled behind his beer.

“Am I wrong?”

Vanessa smirked. “No you’re not wrong.”

“So who’s Dan Humphrey?”

The smirk disappeared. “Gossip Girl.”

“Is that a big deal?”

“It is if you knew him.”

This time she did gulp at her wine. It was too light, it didn’t burn at her throat the way she had wanted it to.

“He did a _lot_ of blasts on himself and the people he apparently loved.”

“That’s pretty crass.”

Vanessa smiled despite her annoyance at the questions.

“Were you one of them?”

“I’ll do you one better. I had a threesome with him.”

He whistled, unable to contain his laughter. Vanessa bit her lip and wondered why she wasn’t nearly as upset about admitting that as she thought she'd be, especially to a complete (albeit cute) stranger. It was like he radiated positive energy. Maybe it was a California thing.

People looked up at them and when their gaze fell on her she immediately dropped her own gaze, tried to shield her face by brushing non-existent hair out of her eyes. As they lost interest but still stole glances Vanessa’s neighbour watched the whole thing, pretending to have the utmost fascination in the whole thing. It's not like he actually cared right? 

“That’s crazy. So you’re in the blog?”

“I’ve been in it a couple of times. Not as much as others.”

“Well consider yourself lucky then.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You’re important enough to even come up in topics about these people, but you actually have your own life outside of it. Am I wrong? What do you do?”

Vanessa smiled. “Small projects. I’m working for a TV show right now.”

He smiled back, genuinely interested. “That’s not _small_.”

“What do _you_ do?”

“Cruise ship captain.”

That was the last thing she was expecting, although it was definitely intriguing. “Wow… You travel a lot?”

“Not as much as you’d think.” He took a final gulp of his beer and shook his head. “Can’t believe we went this long without introducing ourselves. I’m FDR Foster.”

“FDR? Like Franklin D. Roosevelt?”

He nodded. “Yup. Everyone just calls me FDR though.”

“Am I everyone now?”

The playful twinkle was there, but not only in FDR’s eyes. Vanessa could feel it coursing through her as well. Her earlier annoyance was gone and he turned, leaning forward a bit at the invitation.

“Sure hope so. Buy you a drink miss…?”

“Vanessa. Vanessa Abrams. Go right ahead, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure to meet you too.” He ordered a scotch for the both of them without even turning, because the conversation had somehow showed him she needed one. He could tell, he was intuitive like that even though he wasn’t even from the area. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss... Vanessa Abrams. We’re gonna be _such_ good friends.”

“Hopefully better than the ones I had before.”

 

* * *

 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

I never had a problem with sex. It was just that this was the first time I ever had _fun_ being with someone.

I’m not an idiot. I knew this guy was a one-night stand. No doubt in my mind. That’s probably what helped make it so fun in the first place. I had to imagine it was probably the same thing with him.

The condo he was staying in was nice. Sleek and modern. I didn’t really have a chance to observe it though because the second we walked in late at night we zeroed in on the bedroom from the start and the clothes came off pretty quickly.

It was messy, but sex is always messy at least for me and he was still sweet and gentle and _fun_ for a pretty boy from Los Angeles. Nate was like that, but this guy was something else. Sometimes he let me take over, with his soft hands on my waist, a big bright smile beaming across his face.

His hair was a light brown, mixed enough with auburn that I could get confused. When I grabbed hold of it, tangled it in my fingers I got myself a good look. 

He smelled like cinnamon. He wasn’t drenched in cologne like most guys here… and like I’d expect from Los Angeles, if I’m  being honest. The smell still lingered long after we were done and I’d zoned out with his arm lying under me. The smell was still there when he, to my surprise, invited me to breakfast the next morning.

It was probably the best one-night stand I ever had. And it helped me forget exactly what I needed to forget.

 

**_FDR_ **

 

Now I definitely have to say my variety for women has expanded. A bohemian New Yorker who had one hell of a social life? I’m not saying I’m proud of myself, I have to hope I’ve moved past that mindset, but _damn_ was she great.

She was clearly angry about whatever this Gossip Girl Dan Humphrey pulled on her, because she was _rough_ and in control the whole time. I let her take charge though, of course I did. It was probably the most fun I had during sex in a _long_ time… and I’ve had a lot of it.

I didn’t think I would meet someone I could talk to so naturally since me and Lauren broke up. I tried hard not to go back to my old ways, but I still assumed it would happen. Like it was in my nature.

Instead the first person I meet talks to me about literature, she’s more surprised than I am that I invited her to breakfast the next morning, she smells like apples and her strawberry lip gloss lingers all over me. She has these dimples on her tanned cheeks that were there all while she rode on top of me through that bed (I'm serious) and I still can't get over how long and glossy her dark brown hair is. I'd never seen it before. 

Especially the smile. And I know I satisfy women, but that was one hell of a smile.

Obviously I’d end up putting her in just as much danger as Lauren was put in, so I know I shouldn’t go and let myself fall in love again. This wasn’t love. This was a new friendship. It had to be.

For both our sakes… right?

 

* * *

 

 

Vanessa had been the one to suggest Riverpark since she’d visited the area when she dated Chuck. That was a brief mess, but it was still a nice place overlooking the buildings and greenery of New York to take FDR after their night together.

Of course she was surprised he wanted to spend more time with her, but she wasn’t complaining. She liked his company too.

She couldn’t stop herself from grinning at the way he was dressed as he came back from the call he took, looking forlorn and unexpectedly dejected. He was bundled in a thick red cardigan from the cold he obviously wasn’t used to. He’d already started to grow a bit of a grey and red scruff, blue eyes sleepy, but he still grinned when he sat across from her.

“Sorry about that. Have to get back to work soon.”

“Cruises are pretty in-demand around this time. Before you spend your whole summer on them, huh?”

A flicker of confusion crossed his features but FDR quickly shook it off and nodded along.

“Yeah, but I still have over two hours before my flight. So you backpacked across Europe with one of these guys in the website?”

Vanessa went back to her story, when she visited the Louvre with Nate and she suddenly realized she didn’t feel like talking about him or caring about Dan being Gossip Girl anymore.

They knew it was a one-night stand. It had to be.

They still exchanged numbers. They still sent each other a few texts and the more.

And they still assumed they would never see each other again.

Naturally, they were wrong.


	2. West Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years later, friendship still going strong, suddenly Vanessa's in LA with the job she worked so hard to get... and she witnesses something a cruise ship captain shouldn't be able to do.

Tuck did that thing FDR hated for the last five years where he read over his partner’s shoulder as he checked his texts from Vanessa. Then he would smile the second FDR shot him an annoyed look and turn back to his own computer.

“You reading that gossip site again mate?”

“Caught you reading it with Katie last week.”

Tuck shrugged, flipping through a new folder. “She likes it.”

“Well so does my girl.”

He didn’t mean for that to slip out, staring ahead immediately as Tuck stopped flipping through the folder, standing across the table and watching him. Vanessa _doesn’t_ like Gossip Girl that’s what was so odd about his statement. He’d been with about ten girls since he’d last seen her but FDR knew for a fact _she’d_ been with just as many men because they had remained friends.

Via text message. She’d send him recommendations on books, different anecdotes from work. He’d do the same sometimes, thankful that most cruises looked the same and could provide pictures with their websites, but she barely asked about that. Mostly they just talked about their interests, which was… new. Even for five years after being with Lauren it was new.

Tuck let out a strangled surprised laugh that shook FDR out of his thoughts.

“My friend I mean.”

“Sure, sure…”

“And I was just talking to her, I wasn’t checking that site. It’s long dead, just talks about weddings and shit.”

“Now how would you know that?”

FDR rolled his eyes and Tuck waved him off. He was too easy sometimes. He got embarrassed much faster these days and Tuck never asked why, just smiled to himself about it.

“Where do these people get that kind of money anyway?”

FDR shrugged and stared down at the playful (at least that’s how he read it) text telling him she was working on an article and movie set in Los Angeles. Before Tuck could ask, Collins walked in and immediately commanded their attention with her presence, as she was wont to do.

“We finally infiltrated Alexei Borkov and know he plans on meeting with Patrick O’Neil at the Pier Restaurant. You know the one.”

“Russian mob meeting with the Irish mob, uh?” Tuck muttered thoughtfully.

“You two go in, get the information you need, get out. _Do not_ engage.”

She gave them a stern expectant look as they grabbed their equipment and stood together, following her down the long blue hall.

“Why the hell is the Irish and Russian mob in Los Angeles anyway?”

 

* * *

 

The Irish and Russian mob were in Los Angeles capitalizing on a new movie funded by both Alexei and Patrick. Alexei had started out wanting to create an underground business venture in the city, getting his exports of drugs, alcohol, and weapons from all around the area. Patrick had wanted to do the same with a brothel, getting _his_ exports from Boston. They both decided to use the gangster movie _Living It Up_ as a front and agreed to meet with each other one-on-one before they met with the dumb and brutish studio head and his pretty little assistants.

Los Angeles was too hot and filled with idiotic actors and directors. It would be easy for them, especially since they both already had such huge followings in Boston and New York and had each in turn wanted to expand closer to the border.

Canada would be next.

They convinced themselves it was the easiest deal. What pesky government agent would get in their way?

 

* * *

 

“My name is Vanessa Abrams. And I am finally doing my dream job, working with a big movie studio in America after having finished declining any kind of dumb fucking rich people photography for almost five years in New York. Now I’m stuck with a dumb fucking rich—”

“VANESSA.”

Vanessa flinched at the mirror in the women’s washroom on the first floor of the hotel she was staying in for the next couple of weeks. She closed her camera, finishing the recording and stared at herself for a bit longer. Her long hair was gone, just longer than a bob, curled at the end with highlights.

Summit Entertainment’s newest owner and Vanessa’s brash and _ridiculously_ crude and outspoken boss had a voice that pierced through her psyche every time he said her name that loudly and made her wonder why this was any better than working in New York.

Oh right. Because New York had _them_ in it, her old… friends. (Friends? Not after that revelation five years ago.) Expecting her to grovel for work because of what she pulled with Serena.

She’d already apologized for that. She’d rather work here than grovel. And besides… it was a hell of a step higher than before.

“Vanessa I swear to God if you don’t finish up with your tampon in there I’m coming in and you can throw it at me for all I care. You think I get weirded out by walking into the lady’s washroom? I’ve done some _kinky_ shit in the lady’s washroom—”

“Ari, we’re in public!” She called back, combing wet fingers through her short hair and opening the door to meet her boss.

He didn’t miss a beat with his close-cropped shaven executive hair and pressed black suit. He always seemed to be in one of those no matter where she saw him. She gave apologetic looks to people passing and followed him through the hotel’s vast foyer and out to the Mercedes Benz he’d stopped out front.

“You all done? I don’t wait for you like that ever again. Got it?”

 _“What, two minutes_?” She fought the urge to say that and instead replied with “Of course”.

“Now I’m gonna drop you off down the pier at the restaurant where Mr. Borkov and O’Neil are having their private little meeting. I _could_ make you walk but…”

He waited and Vanessa had to fight another urge from rolling her eyes before he had to wait a horrific extra second. (She fought a lot of urges with him. He got snippy when she didn’t and she just wasn’t in the mood.)

“No, I’d really appreciate the ride Mr. Gold.”

“Of course you would.”

He smiled and opened the passenger door for her. He drove her down sunny streets, rehashing the plan on their way to the restaurant. When he dropped her off he yelled some other degrading thing Vanessa had taught herself to ignore and watched him drive away, reminding herself to be thankful she’d been assigned this task. A task nobody was supposed to know about because nobody should be doing it to begin with, but Ari had felt “antsy” around his new workers and wanted an extra look.

Whatever got her more money and respect in the industry she supposed. At least that’s what she told herself.

Walking along the pier with the sparkling blue water, something out of a brochure, Vanessa almost forgot to spot the two men conversing on the bridge, heads close. She’d been distracted because the colour reminded her of FDR’s eyes just as she got a “great, we should meet up soon” text from him.

That made her feel better about the video she’d made in the bathroom. Who needed them back in New York? She long since moved on from that life. She already had a better (and cuter) friend right here in Los Angeles.

She turned the camera’s recording back on just as a shot rang out on the pier. Vanessa snapped her head up, alert, as people screamed and jumped back from… the two men. The two men she was supposed to be working with.

Oh, Ari wasn’t going to like that.

Most people had guns in America, it was nothing new, but the way Alexei pointed his at two other men in suits with a hard concentrated glare suggested he’d done it before. Figures they’d accidentally be working with gangsters on one of their new movies… about gangsters.

Vanessa knew it was idiotic to get closer, but she hid behind a lamppost as people ran and had to squint because at first she thought she was seeing things.

He was there plain as day. FDR was one of the two guys fighting back with his own weapons, his companion a slightly shorter and more rugged guy shooting Alexei with a hit to the arm. Patrick turned and just as he spotted Vanessa and raised his own gun, FDR tackled him into the water and the shot exploded above him instead.

 

* * *

 

 

Her ears ringing, images of palm trees and beeping cars rushing past her, Vanessa finally ran faster than she’d ever run before in her life. She made it back to her hotel, made her way straight to the bathroom again and locked herself in one of the stalls, trying to get her bearings.

Turns out she could’ve handled a walk after all.

Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest. She was almost sure it would burst through her floral blouse, tear right through her. Right now thankfully she wasn’t even puking.

FDR most definitely was _not_ a cruise ship captain. That was for _damn_ sure. Now that she thought about it when they’d stayed in touch, FDR would always give her pictures of stuff that looked like they came from websites. He didn’t give her _much_ , but everything always looked the exact same, without any actual real patron anywhere in the pictures.

Of course he could have been trying to defend himself, but from the looks of what he and his companion had been wearing and how they maneuvered themselves he was obviously well-versed in what he was doing. And Alexei had recognized him instantly as… some sort of agent?

Vanessa didn’t know. All Vanessa knew was that when she saw Mr. Gold again tomorrow they were backing the hell out of this project. He told her not to call him until the next morning, but she would still try to tonight, no matter how much it pissed him off.

Besides… everything pissed him off.

She looked down at the beeping camera and smiled. Her hair was a mess, she was sweating buckets… but she had proof.

Proof that could get her killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I was writing this I realized I needed a studio manager for Vanessa and was ready to just come up with a new one. Then I remembered Ari Gold. I dunno, I think it's pretty perfect. ;)


	3. Record Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The CIA isn't the only group that realized Vanessa witnessed the shooting.

“Why is it that every time I give you two one simple order you still manage to fuck it up?”

FDR sat in the conference room next to Tuck, soaked from head to toe, wishing he didn’t feel like he was being reprimanded like he’d pissed off the principal in an elementary school. He could tell from Tuck’s calm expression that it was all an act, following Collins’s pacing form while FDR decided to sit where he was without a word.

If he said anything he’d probably get himself stuck on desk duty again. Or suspended altogether, depending on Collins’s mood.

“He fired on us first, boss.” Tuck replied.

He was shot with one of her usual skeptical glances but he took it in stride.

“What do you suggest we do? Let civilians get hurt? They spotted _us_.”

“How is that possible?”

She turned, hands on her hips, to FDR, who shrugged.

“We were hidden just fine.”

“People are starting to recognize us. We’ve made a name for ourselves.” Tuck continued. “These kinds of people, the gangsters, they talk in their circles.”

“Well we have a witness.”

That finally peaked their interest. FDR perked up as Collins pulled up an image of the street next to the restaurant where the fight had broken out. The computer was high-tech for their division, flashing images above them of fearful patrons running away from the restaurant.

Except for one person near a lamppost. Filming the whole thing with her own camera in a mixture of shock and terror.

“Shit.”

Tuck glanced at his partner, confused at first but the horrified look told him everything.

“You know her?” Collins asked.

“Sh-she’s a friend. I don’t know what she’s doing there.”

“Is she a spy?”

FDR snapped out of it, annoyed suddenly. He didn’t know why the accusation pissed him off but it did.

“Are all my friends spies now?”

“You don’t have a lot of friends.”

FDR shot Tuck an apprehensive look. “You think I don’t know that?”

“We’re not the only ones with cameras and eyes and ears everywhere.” Collins interrupted. “Do you honestly think Alexei and Patrick didn’t have their own people watching?”

“Why didn’t they intervene then?” Tuck interjected.

“My guess is? They probably also noticed the witness with her camera and are coming for _her_ first.”

FDR slammed out of the room without a second thought and Tuck followed him, making their way to their desks. He completely forgot about the fact that he was still drenched with ocean water, pulling out his phone and hurriedly trying to call Vanessa. Voicemail. Every try sent him to voicemail and she wasn’t returning his texts, so he resorted to muttering “shit shit shit” over and over as he walked around the room.

Tuck went to his computer and started typing up addresses.

“What is she doing here?”

“She’s working for some movie studio.”

“You two don’t talk about work then?”

“ _Obviously_.”

Tuck nodded to himself, ignoring the tone. “Never seen you like this before.”

“Oh shut up. She’s in danger.”

“Do you know where she’s staying?”

FDR forced himself to relax, opening up his phone and pulling out the texts again. Vanessa’s cheeky and almost taunting “room 42, maybe I’ll see you there ;)” from two days ago had made him smile then. Now it could save her life.

He hoped.

 

* * *

 

 

Vanessa sat in her hotel room in the Four Seasons, hair having just dried from the shower. She pulled off her white robe, changing into a pink tank top and baggy flannel pants for the night. She dialled her boss’s number again, pulling her camera close.

“Vanessa I swear to God if you don’t give me a damn good reason why you’re interrupting me and the wife—”

“Alexei and Patrick are gangsters.”

“You don’t fucking say genius. You called me because of _that_?”

“No. Mr. Gold… they are _real_ gangsters. I caught them shooting at some… government agents during their meeting. You still wanna work with them?”

Finally the asshole took a breath and paused on the other end. “You got proof?”

“Wouldn’t have blown up your phone with fifty messages if I didn’t.”

“Good. Good kid. You’ve always been my favourite, you know that right _Nessa_?”

She rolled her eyes. God she hated that nickname. The more she hated it the more he loved to use it. It was childish but that wasn’t saying much about her boss.

“You can’t act like we know they’re gangsters.”

“You bring that footage tomorrow, you show me that shit and then you can watch for yourself as I call them and tell them we’re not interested. Don’t get _too_ turned on though.”

She smirked despite herself. “Yes sir, wouldn’t think of it.”

Parting on good terms with her boss was a feat that deserved a drink. She was twenty-five, working in Hollywood, probably about to help in a huge investigation. She deserved it.

Vanessa made her way towards the minibar and popped open some champagne. It was a nice room with a queen-size bed, overlooking the Los Angeles nightlife below. She wasn’t big on going the overtly-lavish route. She’d done that before and after everything she accomplished today she refused to go that route again.

She turned the flat-screen TV on as her phone rang for the fifteenth time that night. Every news channel in LA was talking about the shooting at the restaurant. The best most people could do was videos on their phones with shaky quality, but the screaming told anyone watching the news there was trouble. The interviews were all the same, about how a crazed madman pulled a gun on two guys. Or two girls. Or the whole restaurant.

Vanessa stared down at her phone. Now that she’d finally gotten a hold of Ari she had the time to muse on whether she should or shouldn’t answer FDR’s calls.

Obviously he’d found out about what she saw. Of course he did, he’s some super spy! But what was she supposed to say to him?

After the third ring she pushed a curl of dark hair out of her eyes and answered.

“What?”

“Hello to you too.”

Why did it feel so… oddly nice to hear his voice? She’d heard it a couple of times over the years, deep and coarse, and it always took her aback, but now when she was annoyed she shouldn’t be grinning. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t natural.

She can’t be harboring feelings for someone who lied to her. Not again, not like this.

“I’ve been working all day.”

“I’m sure you were. So was I.”

“Oh really?”

“Vanessa…” Any semblance of a teasing tone disappeared in his voice. “Whatever you saw—”

“You’ve been lying to me. For over five years.”

“ _Over_ five years?”

“You don’t work on boats, on cruises.”

“I’ve _been_ on them.”

“We’ve all been on _cruises_. But not like that.”

He sighed and she waited, her cursed hands sweating. She shouldn’t care so much. Guys lied to her all the time. It was just reminding her of what she had to forget five years ago. Here he was, this guy who was all hers no matter how many people they’d been with, and he was lying too.

It was so typical. She promised it wouldn’t hurt… and yet…

“I know you’re pissed. I had a good reason to lie.”

“Oh really?”

“You’re in danger now, because of what you saw.”

She tried not to let the sudden shiver that went down her spine get to her.

“That’s not funny.”

“Do I sound like I'm joking?" Now she really could hear the desperation in her voice. And was he... running? It sounded like he was running. "Are you still at the Four Seasons? Room 42?”

“Why?”

“I’m coming there right now. Stay where you are and don’t answer the door.”

Now that definitely surprised her. Before Vanessa could ask more questions a loud bang came from said door. She snapped her head up, cold all of a sudden.

“Who is it?” She called out, pulling away from her phone slightly. 

“Room service.” A gruff voice answered.

“Room service? I didn’t order any room service.” She knew her voice was overly loud, so she pulled the phone close to her ear again, trying not to panic. 

“Courtesy of the hotel, ma’am.”

“Okay I’ll be right there!” She turned away from the door’s view, hissing into her phone. “FDR? What do I do?”

He just repeated what he said before: “Don’t answer your door.”

A fight broke out. Well, as far as she could tell from the sounds that suddenly came from the hallway. Shouting, punching, it all sounded the same to her. She definitely recognized FDR yelling, although he sounded farther from his phone. Something that distinctly felt like a head slammed up against the door and Vanessa jumped back, crawling behind her bed until everything went silent again. 

At least guns weren’t involved. _This_ time.

FDR’s voice sounded clear again on his end of the phone, although rougher than before. Out of breath now. And she could hear him muffled in the hallway as well. Vanessa fought the urge to find the voice she could hear attractive. “I need to get it together.” She muttered.

“You can open your door now.”

She cleared her throat, hoping he hadn’t heard that reprimand. “You sure? You sure about that?”

“Come on Vanessa…”

He could hear how shaky she was and she could hear how tired _he_ was. She knew him. Even though she was scared out of her wits, she still liked that she knew him.

 

* * *

 

In the helicopter together FDR contemplated whether he should jump out and get it over with. Morbid, and of course he knew he wouldn’t, but now he at least wanted to kick himself for putting _another_ girl in danger thanks to his job.

One he really liked too.

“Dammit.”

Vanessa pulled her gaze away from the window back to FDR, having been observing the blinking Los Angeles lights with some interest. She couldn’t even hear him over the propellers and yet somehow she had known what he said.

“You’re hurt.” Shouting that definitely confused him until FDR looked down at his arm. He’d forgotten about the gaping knife wound one of Alexei’s men had given him until now. Or was it Patrick’s men? He’d have to think about it later.

Because right now he realized that Vanessa wasn’t mad or embarrassed because of the danger. You know… like a _normal_ person. She was mad because he lied. After all the conversations they’d had for _over_ five years about all of the lying she put up with from the people she knew in New York, he should have been able to figure it out.

Well, he knew now.

Instead of letting anybody lead her to some unknown room at the agency Vanessa followed FDR to their infirmary, sat with him, watched him with big sly brown eyes that made him squirm and feel something he’d only ever felt with Lauren before.

“It’s not that bad. Really. I’ve had worse.”

“I can imagine.”

He noticed her pyjamas for the first time and smiled and he could tell it annoyed her.

“What?”

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I did it to protect you.”

She softened her gaze, tired. Before she could say anything else, before they could bond the way they always would, Collins and Tuck walked in.

Collins had never conducted meetings in the infirmary before and it showed. She made a gesture by giving a pointed glance of her surroundings but since Vanessa was there she decided that it was enough. At least her agents knew she was annoyed. Tuck was exhausted, having spent the whole night waiting for word from FDR and having wanted to go home to his family. 

“This is her then?”

“This is her.” Vanessa answered for them, even though she only vaguely had an understanding of what she was answering.

She didn’t know why she was being cheeky. Maybe she could tell they were annoyed with FDR and now her instinct was to be protective of him. Figures. Those feelings weren’t going away anytime soon.

“You’ve been spotted by gangsters, love.” Tuck replied, gentler than his boss.

“I figured that with the bodies outside my hotel room.”

“How many?”

She rose her eyebrows. “I don’t know… five.”

He turned to FDR, smirking. “That’s weak.”

“Shut up. You’ve done worse.”

“You’ll need protection.” Collins continued, ignoring them but irritated. “We’ll put you in a safehouse—”

“I can’t do that, I have to meet my boss tomorrow.”

The older woman stopped, glancing at FDR who just stared back. His arm was patched up and while he was irritated that Vanessa was arguing after almost getting _killed_ (didn’t she hate this boss too?) he also liked that she was sticking up for herself. There were always those conflicting feelings when it came to her and it was… nice. It didn’t feel as odd as he thought they would over the years.

“That’s not really important right now. Your safety is important.”

“I know, I get that. But I don’t think you understand how important this job is for me. I worked hard to get up to this level. I stopped doing everything in New York for a reason. If I lose this job because your… agent couldn’t tell me the truth then I’m screwed.”

FDR watched Vanessa now, especially after she referred to him, but the anger was fully on Collins. He appreciated that. 

“What do you suggest we do then?”

She shrugged, tired now. “Let me get my video to my boss, we drop Alexei and Patrick as clients and he calls the police. You can take it from there.”

“We already have Alexei in custody.” Tuck replied.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Then interrogate him. Either way, I’m not risking my job.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See I love having references, but I know if I go and name this character Patrick KENZIE then it'd be confusing. Since there are three crossovers in this and to me once you make it three suddenly references can be more than that. And no Patrick Kenzie is not in this lmao. The best I could do is have 42 be a reference to Lost and Marvel because hell yeah. ;)


	4. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FDR and Vanessa muse about what they should do next and oddly-enough still have feelings for each other.

**_FDR_ **

 

The interrogation went swimmingly. About as swimmingly as you’d expect a petulant child to answer your questions.

Even when torture was involved.

This idiot gangster almost got my girlfriend killed and I could tell Tuck was getting antsy at my “bad cop” tactics. Lots of dangling the guy upside down, slaps, slamming of fists, I won’t go into detail. I didn’t _water-board_ him, so there’s that. Eventually we found out about Patrick’s get-together with the Hollywood executives over the weekend. A stylish party (Alexei's words not mine because I couldn't give a rat's ass how stylish this party is), one he was using as a front for his _real_ business.

Scumbag. Piece of shit.

See, this is why I trained for such a… lucrative job. I didn’t do it for some power play and I know Tuck didn’t either. We’re CIA agents because we want to protect people from dangerous men and women who’re always trying to exploit and hurt innocent lives.

And now _this guy_ put _my girlfriend_ in danger. I’m sick of this.

“You think it’s a trap?” Tuck interrupted my rage-fueled thoughts near the entrance of the interrogation room where we held Alexei. “What were the men like? Outside her hotel? Were they Russian or Irish?”

“They spoke in English, they didn’t have accents. Sounded more Bostonian.”

“Irish then. They were Patrick’s men. But they’re probably meeting with Alexei’s men at this place too. After what happened at the restaurant.”

He leaned up against the wall and watched me and I knew we weren’t going to be talking about the gangsters next. We were best friends for a reason, even after everything we’ve been through, I can instantly tell when an expression changes for a new question. It’s the exact same the other way around.

Still, as weird as it was that I could admit to myself who Vanessa was to me, I didn’t feel like being the butt-end of a new interrogation. At least at first.

“How’s Katie?”

“Katie’s fine.”

“And Joe?”

“Joe doesn’t go around reading gossip sites about weddings in the Upper East Side of New York, but he’s fine too.”

I couldn’t hide the smirk that answer gave me. He’s cheeky, I’ll give him that. He and Vanessa will get along just fine.

If it lasts.

“I meant it when I said I’ve never seen you like this before. Not since Lauren.”

“I know.”

Okay so it didn’t feel that awkward admitting it after all. I'd been friends with her for five years, why would it?

“You think it might be something like… me and Katie and Joe?”

I shrugged. Sometimes I hated it when he got so deep, especially in the middle of missions, but there was no point in avoiding it.

“I don’t really know. Maybe. Feels like it.”

“I’m sorry about Lauren. You know that right?”

Of course I did. I was almost divorced twice because of how much I cared about her and it ended, but it didn’t end badly. I nodded, giving Tuck my trademark smile. (I’d like to think I had one that accommodated the eyes I knew blew women away.)

“Let’s get to work.”

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

On my way to work with CIA agents blending into the area around me I thought about the conversation I had overheard between Tuck and FDR. Their boss Collins (she’s a softie at heart I know it) was looking for them and I went and did that thing where I eavesdropped on them instead. I swear most of the time it’s accidental.

I remember how I used to do this with Dan and Serena and Jenny and fucking _Chuck_. I’d get this information I don’t want and end up having to use it for something.

But this wasn’t high school or the Upper East Side anymore. This was a new relationship with a guy who cared about me.

FDR only ever spoke about Lauren and his ex-wife a few times over the five years we remained friends. I did the same with Dan. I liked it that way. But I also liked talking to him about… anything.

And he likes _me_.

That confusingly warm feeling in my stomach and chest made more sense now. I wasn’t annoyed anymore. Some lies make sense and he _still_ told me the truth before I could get too hurt.

“Get your pretty little head out of the clouds Va-ness-aaahh.” Even my boss’s obnoxious tone didn’t deter me after I showed him the video. By now I could tell he was mostly scared and that’s why he was lashing out. Although, he always lashed out. “There’s no way in hell we’re working with these nutjobs.”

“I told you.”

“Don’t act smart, nobody likes that in a wife.”

I rolled my eyes because I knew this time he wouldn’t care.

“Why’re you freaking out? Call the cops.”

“I can’t call the cops _princess_ , Patrick fucking O’Neil will be here in two goddamn seconds.”

Yeah. That snapped me out of it. He could tell too, the cocky asshole. Before I could yell my dismay and horror Patrick let himself in. And it was my own fault too, because normally I’d be at my desk answering calls, playing the dutiful assistant.

The large glass double-doors opened with a flourish and the gangster who tried to shoot me less than 24-hours ago walked on the linoleum floor in sleek black shoes and a tight-fitting black pinstriped suit without a care in the world. He was younger than Alexei, younger than Ari even in his early 40s, blonde and blue-eyed.

I can still see in his eyes that he’d killed people. They weren’t blue like FDR’s, fun and bright. They were hard and grey and if he could he’d kill me and Ari right then and there. I almost thought he _would_ and I braced myself, crossing my arms and sizing him up.

Ari thought quickly and met Patrick’s hard smile with his own quick friendly one. He slammed his laptop closed and reached a hand out.

“You’re a little early Mr. O’Neil."

“Patrick. Please. And I can’t help it if I’m excited for this project.” His gaze fell on me. “Who’s this?”

“Oh nobody, just an assistant.”

That didn’t annoy me for once, the flourish of Ari’s dismissive hand to try and get rid of me. As I stepped towards the doors Patrick blocked my way.

“Stay, let her witness our business. Maybe she can learn something.”

I think I hated this guy more than Ari. That sure felt weird. I could see the irritation and fear plain on the latter’s whole composure too. When Ari had any kind of emotion it wasn’t just exhibited on his face, but his whole body.

His wife could probably tell you that.

“There isn’t much _business_ to discuss.”

“Why? Anything wrong?”

“We might have to pass on your project. So sorry, I know. These things happen. No need to cry about it. We’re a smaller studio than you think, maybe one of the bigger companies can help you.”

“But we want _you_.”

“We? Who’s we? Where _is_ your boyfriend—I mean _companion_ Alexei?”

I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes at such a crass joke. This was how he worked when he turned people down. I wondered if this was the first time he'd ever had to do it to gangsters. I don't know his whole life, it probably wasn't. 

“My friend’s… indisposed.” Patrick flashed a sly look my way and I held it, but I could feel my whole body wanting to shake.

“Well you can tell him for us. Kill two birds with one stone.” I could see the regret on his face the second he said the word kill. 

“Is this because of the restaurant shooting?”

Ari stopped, at a loss (hell really was freezing over) and I decided against my better judgment to open my own damn mouth. “What restaurant shooting?”

“You two never witnessed it? On the pier?”

“We were working. Mr. Gold here just… knows the company could benefit better with a lighter project.”

Patrick never broke his eyes away from mine. They weren’t friendly anymore, despite the smile, and I suddenly really wished an agent was here. Preferably FDR.

“That’s too bad then.” He turned back to Ari with big bright teeth adorning his fake smile. “But you cannot back away from my party at least. You’ve already said you’d go, it wouldn’t look too good.”

“Who said anything about canceling on a _party_?” He burst out laughing, the tension ceasing. “Don’t you worry, no harm done between us. We’ll be there.”

“Who knows?” Patrick watched me again and I knew the next words that came out of his mouth were a threat. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”


	5. Blast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa dreams about what Gossip Girl would say if it were still around.

Gossip Girl here. Miss me? I’ve been gone for a long time, I know.

Five years to be exact.

I’m sorry you had to part with the scintillating tales I provided of our Upper East Side elite, but there wasn’t much to talk about. Their stories had ended and I wasn’t about to make it a generational thing.

This isn’t Degrassi: The Next Generation my studious little fanboys. And yes, I know more than just girls read me.

Obviously. You all know who I am, but maybe I lied. Maybe I didn’t. It doesn’t mean I disappeared for good.

Right now I couldn’t help relishing in the juiciest new tidbit I was given. It seems like someone who wishes I would stay dead and buried has been living the dream in Los Angeles.

Did V really think working in Hollywood made it _easier_ for me to ignore her? Funny. I thought she was smarter than that. Didn’t she know her boss was just like the adults who had illegitimate sons in New York? Illegitimate sons she’s slept with I might add.

Same people, different scenery. You’d think she would know better. _I_ definitely thought so.

And she has a new boy toy at her heels. A cruise ship captain with baby blues like that? He must be hiding something.

Everybody always is.

Enjoy your new meat at the little gala V. Don’t be so shocked that I know about this, everybody does. You’re in the social circle of Hollywood now. _Their_ elite. And I’ve got eyes everywhere.

 

You know you love me, xoxo 


	6. There Are No Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't always go as they're planned, especially for Vanessa when she's taken to the party, fearing for her life and wondering when Patrick will make his next move. She's in for a surprise when a certain someone arrives as her date.

The gala was on an old plantation that had been refurbished, given extra floors. It didn’t _need_ it, but Vanessa remembered from her time in New York that it didn’t matter whether rich people _needed_ unnecessary renovations or surgeries or jewelry. They were still getting these things.

Chinese lanterns were hung all around the rolling field with its marble statues. After traveling through the giant metal gates the limo pulled into a cobblestone road, following other cars with their guests. It shocked Vanessa to even see cobblestone anywhere, let alone at a rich household that was trying too hard.

“Chinese lanterns… are they appropriation?”

“What the hell’re you yammering about?” Ari sat next to her, glancing out of the window, downing a shot of some kind of clear alcoholic liquid Vanessa couldn’t name right now. He was nervous, fidgeting and pulling at his collar but if she said anything he’d just yell a denial. “Did you really bring a notepad with you? Are you serious?”

“I’m still working for that magazine Ari… Mr. Gold.”

He always pretended like he hated it when she used his first name, but after she first made the mistake he never seemed to care again. His old assistants probably called him by his first name. 

Vanessa wondered if she could become friends with someone like her boss. He was growing to become a tired old man, a Hollywood agent too anxious about everything, but he was still good at his job. If she couldn’t respect him as a person for his dumb obnoxious (oftentimes racist and sexist) outbursts she could definitely do so for his job. When she asked earlier why his wife wasn't coming he just laughed at her and told her she was  _far_ more expendable in a party fronted by gangsters than his own wife. 

As much as it annoyed her he wasn't exactly wrong. Especially in his line of work. 

“Which one? The feminazi one?”

“It’s rude to say something like that. Equating wanting equal rights with genocide.”

“Hey, I’m the Jewish one here.”

Vanessa smirked, wondering if that made what he said okay and if that would make a good article too.

“So now you’re saying Chinese lanterns are appropriation if white people use them?”

She shrugged. “On a plantation too?”

He immediately started laughing. “What’re you like half-black too?”

There was that racism. How did his old assistants handle it? 

“Shut up Ari.”

“Oh I’m sorry, did I finally hit a nerve?” When she turned to watch him he wasn’t nervous anymore, just annoyed and angry. “Look, we’re in a stupid fucking mess here. Who’s to say in reality these people don’t actually give a shit about their movie but are meeting to decide on whether or not they should whack us?”

Vanessa tried not to show the knowledge in her eyes that pretty much confirmed his fear.

“We’re not the only Hollywood people there.”

“Exactly. So keep your notepad in the _car_ , we don’t want them thinking you’re busting them for a big news agency.”

She shrugged, putting it under her seat. When he was right he was right.

“We drink, we mingle, we stick to the people we _know_ and then we fucking _leave_. Got it?’

Vanessa swallowed, looking down at the acrylic nails she got done a week ago, painted a sparkling dark blue, and she realized she was the one shaking instead.

“I don’t know anybody there the way you do.”

“Well then princess that’s not my problem.” He shook his head, exasperated. “You’re more screwed than I am.”

It felt like a jolt to her when the car stopped in front of the giant open doors. People were smoking and drinking cocktails, dressed to the nines, but all Vanessa could think about was her predicament. What the hell was she supposed to do? They could kill her for having her proof, not touch anybody else and none of them would care. Why did working on a movie have to turn into something like this?

If only Dan could see her now.

As far as Vanessa knew that Gossip Girl blast was a dream. She’d only checked the internet once early in the morning and hadn’t pulled anything up since then. She was too busy answering FDR’s reassurances in a few texts and wondering where the CIA agents were set up throughout the area. She couldn’t see anybody that didn’t look out of place, especially as it was starting to get dark out.

One thing she liked about Los Angeles was how long it took for the sun to set. Even during the winter it was brighter out than when she lived in New York. It made her feel warm inside and out, that she chose wisely coming out here, but now she was in more trouble than ever.

At least she might still have a boyfriend. If she even survived tonight.

Ari walked out first, fixing his suit and greeting everyone with eager smiles. Vanessa calmed her nerves and let herself out, exposing the peach-coloured Dune Caddie heels on her tan skin, then the short white and blue encrusted lace dress from French Connection. Her hair was back in a small elegant bun, exposing a silver choker necklace from Swarovski. Nothing she wore was too extravagant, it wasn’t Dior or Chanel or _whatever_ , but it was what the CIA could provide at the last minute and besides… she liked it.

The limo drove off the second she was out and she watched another replace it in a second before she turned back to the carpeted brick steps and followed Ari into the foyer. She could hear the car opening behind her, but she was distracted again when her boss actually acknowledged her to his old friends.

“What’re you bringing these idiots here again, all I have is my assistant.”

Vanessa grinned quickly, not sure who she was introduced to exactly. “Nice to meet you.” This was going to be a long night.

“Mr. Gold, Miss. Abrams. So glad you could come.”

They both spun towards Patrick in his grey suit, grinning quickly. Ari shook his hand, laughing.

“Told you we wouldn’t miss a party. Nice place you got here.”

“You bring your assistants everywhere?”

“Oh well she was _begging_ me to let her come. First Hollywood get-together for her.”

Vanessa wanted to kick him but feigned interest, trying not to sweat under the sparkling chandelier. The hardness was still in Patrick's eyes, not leaving her gaze as he took her hand gently and kissed it. She knew the gentleness was a front and he could probably break her wrist without a second thought, but she tried not to convey that concern as best as she could. 

“You look lovely regardless. Shame you couldn’t bring a date.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

Patrick dropped her hand, the coy smile disappearing once he got a good look at the surprising reappearance of FDR standing next to her. Vanessa replaced that smile, almost beaming, relieved to see him.  _Very_ relieved. 

He was so handsome, she couldn’t take it. Wearing a dark blue Burberry suit as casually as he did, hair slicked back, a little bit of red stubble like the morning after they slept together. It was ridiculous. How could he look like that?

FDR smiled knowingly and observed her just the same. “Thank you for keeping her company. You’re so right, doesn’t she look exquisite?” She had to believe he meant it, that those words especially weren’t an act.

And she did, blushing.

“This is your date then?”

“Oh thank God.” Ari muttered and Vanessa agreed with that relief instantly.

FDR shook his hand, hard and precise. The hardness in his own blue eyes wasn’t as terrifying as Patrick’s, but it was there and all of them knew it. Well, maybe Ari didn’t.

“Of course I’m her date. I was running late at work, so she offered to go with her boss.”

“Sure did.” Ari grabbed champagne from a platter nearby and started walking away. “Let’s move this along shall we?”

“Excellent idea.” Patrick let go of FDR’s hand, but Vanessa saw him trying to inconspicuously flex his own. “Would you like to see the ballroom?”

She lost Ari pretty quickly, especially since said ballroom was something out of Pride and Prejudice. She always loved that book and movie, people assumed she was never the romantic type but she was standing next to someone who she was willing to be romantic with again. They continued their small-talk towards different patrons, weaving around, eyes always on Patrick and the hulking men around him.

“Don’t drink too much.” FDR whispered when he handed her their second champagne glass and she smiled.

“ _You_ don’t drink too much.”

“You look beautiful. You know that right?”

Vanessa bit her lip and looked away, watched the people in her new environment. Everybody and everything was so sophisticated and polished, like New York all over again. These people were here to mingle, to further their careers and make more money. They had no idea a gang was meeting up in one of the rooms of the mansion. They were so oblivious. And Vanessa knew most of them probably did all kinds of drugs from the way her boss sometimes “accidentally” gossiped.

Nothing changed. Same people, different environment. Like that Gossip Girl blast said. Allegedly.

Well… _some_ things changed.

She looked up at FDR who was doing a poor job of watching the area, eyes always trailing back to her, especially after he gave her that compliment.

“You clean up well too _sailor_.”

He chuckled and when the grin made his eyes crinkle Vanessa could feel her stomach twisting.

“I’m sorry you had to get involved in this.”

“I’m just glad I know the truth. Is that why you and Lauren… didn’t work out?”

His expression settled back to neutrality but she could still see that he was taken aback by the question.

“I… I’m sorry. I overheard you and Tuck talking about her. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

“It’s okay. It’s… She knew the truth, but we got together… oddly. Me and Tuck, we both fought for her. I told you that.”

“Yeah…” She looked away, thoughtful now. He told her this four years ago when the texting became more than just a few here and there every couple of months.

Most of the time they were accidental drunk phone calls. On both sides.

“It didn’t last… Tuck and Katie, Katie’s his wife, they accidentally introduced her to someone else and she just… connected better with him.”

“You were one hell of a playboy before we met.”

He shrugged and Vanessa smiled, happy to listen to him open up. Even during something that was supposed to be a mission he was doing this for her.

Maybe he really did care about her more than she thought.

“Why’re people staring at you?”

She snapped out of her thoughts and saw Ari making his way to her, leaving Patrick and his friends. People _were_ staring at her, especially the gangster who lifted his glass and winked. What the hell did that mean?

Her boss was holding out his phone, reading something with a mixture of annoyance and confusion all over his face.

“Vanessa. Come here, what the hell is this?”

“What?”

She looked over his shoulder and realized the Gossip Girl blast wasn’t real after all… but he still had the site up. He had it up to old posts about her. They were from years ago and she could feel FDR next to her, just as confused now.

“You drugged a girl?”

“Wait it’s… wait.”

Why did Patrick want Ari to know about this? Why did he want _anybody_ to know? She met his vicious gaze from across the room and saw the satisfaction he felt.

He was going to ruin everything for her, just for fun. Just for interfering in his plans. And the guy she liked, who already known about this sure, he still wouldn’t be able to move past this embarrassing moment.

 _You can’t escape your past V_.

 

* * *

 

FDR was always partial to the old classics from the 1950s and 1960s. He loved Sinatra and Bing Crosby, one time Tuck caught him watching Singin’ In The Rain before one of their CHIPs marathons and FDR embraced it completely. Outside of the obvious racism and sexism of the days, the music and aesthetic was so simple to him, so easy to get lost in on a lonely night.

He found Vanessa sitting in an empty hall on a stool near one of the washrooms. Sinatra’s Fly Me To The Moon crooned away in the distance and FDR realized he would’ve really liked to dance with her right now.

She was so… dejected. Hunched over, staring ahead. She still looked beautiful with her sad brown eyes, worried her whole life was ruined.

“I already knew about that.”

“It was… dumb.” Her voice came out cracked and she looked down, embarrassed. “And I blamed everyone but me.”

“You won’t lose your job. I’ll talk to Collins, make sure of it.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

 _There_ was that fire he always loved seeing in her. She was so voracious, so much fun. Even when they’d only spent that one night together, but especially when they stayed in touch.

He was grateful. He was happy he met her, even though his priority was still to _protect_ her first.

“What’re you parents like?”

Vanessa waved him off, not even surprised with the sudden question. “They always lived in their own world. Especially my mom.”

“My parents died in a car crash when I was nine.”

Vanessa finally lifted her head and FDR bent down, watching her. He took her hand and held it close, pushed hair out of her eyes with the other one and her cheek felt warm up against his palm.

“I always had a hard time opening up after it happened, but… I hope I’ve changed since then. The past is the past.”

“There are no mistakes.” She parroted the words he’d told her _three_ years ago when he _first_ heard about the time she hurt Serena. How it’s the mistakes that made a person who they were. “But that definitely was a huge one.”

“And it led you here to your new job and... to me." He grinned when she started biting her lip, one of her habits. "I don’t care what these people or what _Gossip Girl_ thinks.”

“I know. It’s still…”

“Embarrassing. Yeah.”

He pulled her up, and even to Vanessa’s surprise she stood with him. This party felt like a bust, all eyes on her, reminiscent of days she tried so hard to forget. She was surrounded by rich people she didn’t care about, who _certainly_ didn't care about her either, and she had promised this wouldn’t happen again once she left New York and her old friends. But here she was running away from her past when a friend she had for five years was willing to start something new with her.

“I visit my Nana almost every week. She has these stables you’ll love.”

Vanessa scoffed. “I’m not very good with horses.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll teach you.” He led her out to the ballroom again as a new song started playing and Vanessa barely had time to realize that this was the first time he invited her to his Nana's. People glanced at them, immediately started whispering, and Vanessa could feel her face flushing all over again. “Let’s dance.”

“Seriously?”

“Let’s show that asshole what he did doesn’t mean a _thing_ to you.”

Out in the middle of the polished wooden floor with the candlelight in the chandeliers creating a warmth in the room they never noticed before, FDR led Vanessa right into the middle of the crowd, put a soft hand on her waist, and started dancing to Only You by The Platters.

One of his favourites.

And now one of her favourites too.

It was completely unprecedented and almost… challenging to waltz like this in such a modern Hollywood get-together, but seconds in and Vanessa was already forgetting about them and forgetting about her embarrassment. She smiled those dimples of hers and FDR flashed Patrick a look as they passed him, throwing the earlier wink back with his own and continuing on.

Vanessa could swear she saw her boss flash Patrick a smirk but she didn’t care anymore. She stepped on FDR’s feet a couple of times, apologetic immediately because she hadn’t waltzed since… well ever, but it only made his smile broaden and he pulled her close. He made her feel better so easily and he was  _still_ trying to make her happy. 

He was an amazing dancer. 

When the song ended, she noticed the ecstatic twinkle in FDR's eye when The Way You Look Tonight by Bing Crosby started up and Vanessa remembered when he sent her all of his favourite oldies to download. She remembered when she sent back countless indie artists that _she_ loved.

He was a CIA agent but even after what they’d both been through in their lives before, he clearly wanted to continue something with someone and that someone was  _her_ right now.

More people started to join them with their couples, and eventually they too had forgotten about Vanessa’s embarrassing moment. 

They were a fickle bunch.

The crowd thickened once modern music started filtering through the DJ’s speakers. The giant glass windows basked everybody in a starry night and Hollywood's elite mingled amongst themselves once again. 

When FDR started observing the area, back to his initial task, Vanessa snapped herself out of her own reverie and noticed Ari with a group that finally didn’t include Patrick and his bodyguards. She lifted herself up, pressing her lips next to FDR’s ear.

“They must be at their meeting.”

He nodded and quickly led her to the bar, their dance finished for now. The sense of dread that started to form in her stomach was probably plain on her face because FDR suddenly kissed her tenderly on the lips, cupping her cheek afterwards and looking her squarely in the eye.

“ _Don’t_ follow me.”

She watched him leave, watched him speak into something on his wrist and she almost jumped at the shadows moving outside, the backup agents following him.

She grew up from trying to spy on people. She knew that. And she also knew that she wasn’t qualified to try and help with this sort of thing.

But she couldn’t just stand there for hours drinking, wondering if FDR would be okay. 

Everyone had decided to ignore her again, including her boss. Vanessa slipped away easily, walking back into the hall where FDR had found her. The farther she ventured through the maze that was this ex-plantation, the quieter it got. The other guests were too immersed in schmoozing amongst themselves to notice. 

She made her way down a spiraling stairway to a long elegant hallway with hanging paintings filled with men in suits, gripping their swords. Vanessa could feel their eyes as she passed, the sounds of the ballroom turning into distant laughter. The silence was deafening the farther she snooped and she wondered where the hell FDR was hiding, if he’d already found and captured Patrick’s men. How long had it been? Less than a half an hour? More that twenty minutes, she was sure. 

“You’re a sneaky one huh?” She whirled around as Patrick appeared with another tall man in a black, both of them pointing guns at her.

Big… terrifying guns.

Vanessa couldn’t fathom any memory where people had pointed guns at her before. This was definitely a first.

She stood, frozen, staring back at the lazy and annoyed blue-grey eyes in front of her.

Really. This guy’s were _much_ uglier than FDR’s. Wherever he was.

“What-what’s this? I was just looking for the bathroom—”

“Yeah that’s cute. You film me and you think I’ll just believe you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Save it. Go back upstairs and let us get on with our meeting before you make a mess of things.”

“What meeting?”

He sighed, exasperated, started waving the gun around.

“Nice try. Making your boss back out? You shouldn’t have made enemies out of us.”

“I’m just thinking about what’s good for the company—”

Suddenly the nonchalant attitude disappeared and rage took over. Patrick took two vicious steps towards Vanessa and she shook all over, the gun only inches away from her forehead.

“You wanna act smart? You think your boss or the government or _anybody_ cares if I kill you right now?”

Something snapped in her when he said that. She thought about all the times she doubted herself, how many times she felt like she could never run from her past. Now especially when this idiot tried to embarrass her, probably costing Vanessa her job.

Nobody pushes her around like this. Not Dan, not herself, and especially not this asshole.

A calmness swept over her, face going blank.

“I fucking dare you.”

“Who do you think you are? Prancing around here. You can’t stop us from doing what we’re doing. That idiot boss of yours? There’s more like him. We’ll find _somebody_ who’ll let us use our movie as a front.”

“As a front for what? Say it. You think I have a wire? Why would anybody trust me with that shit?”

“That _is_ true. You _do_ seem pretty clueless if that website’s any proof.”

“You don’t care about any _movies_.”

“Of course I don’t. None of us do. We’re about to take over this filthy city. The women I have? They’re just the beginning. Soon I’ll be controlling every brothel in America.” Patrick smiled, satisfied with himself. "You think because you have Alexei he won't find a way to get his weapons here? This is only the beginning." He relaxed his grip on his gun, the other hand caressing Vanessa’s arm mockingly. “And what can you do about it? You said it yourself. You have no wire.”

“Yeah, but I do.”

FDR materialized from out of the shadows next to them, pointing his own gun at the side of Patrick’s head. Vanessa’s eyes widened, still unable to move as he produced a tape recorder to prove his point and then kicked Patrick in the knee. She heard the hard snap it made and as his bodyguard was reacting FDR took hold of Patrick’s gun and shot them both in their legs.

All hell broke loose after that. The gangsters meeting with one another heard the commotion, the CIA agents called for backup came in to help, and gunfire and yelling made up the rest of Vanessa’s night. She was pulled back into a corner, eventually taken by another agent and she watched FDR disappear into the crowd.

The last thing she saw was him toppling to the ground.


	7. Starting Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things work out between Vanessa and FDR after the mission against the gangsters and they decide to try out a relationship together.

After he left the infirmary it only took a couple of weeks for the bullet wounds to heal, but it was still shocking. There'd been one that got stuck in FDR’s arm, but mostly they were grazes, to Vanessa’s relief. Tuck was there too, which surprised her, because she hadn’t even noticed him and she laughed along with them when FDR reacted to her confusion.

“She was only worrying about you, how sweet.” Tuck rolled his eyes, because apparently he’d been hurt much more.

“Sorry.”

He shook his head, warming up to her. “It’s alright. Katie’s the same.”

“Tell her about the time some Italian mobsters thought they could scope her out…”

FDR started babbling about it anyway, high on painkillers, how Katie heard about it and only kept on asking questions about Tuck to the point that FDR had had his foot run over and she barely noticed.

“Yeah mate, it’s a dangerous job.”

He immediately sobered up and Vanessa watched him look away. She knew what he was thinking and she decided then that she’d make it work. A CIA agent is much better than some Upper East Siders and politicians who constantly expect her to apologize for her past. She took FDR’s hand and forced his beautiful blue eyes to meet her coy brown ones.

“I think I can manage.”

He slowly grinned again and lay back down. Tuck nudged his leg and winked.

“Maybe you should take a page out of my book for once.”

FDR spent a few extra languid seconds realizing what his friend meant and Vanessa didn’t bother asking.

She hadn’t been fired after all. The men were arrested and it was all over the news. Somebody even cared to mention Vanessa’s involvement as an aspiring filmmaker and reporter. “If she hadn’t been there trying to dissuade Mr. Ari Gold from working with Mr. Patrick O’Neil because of the proof she obtained, Summit could have been working with these men for years.”

She didn’t get a promotion, but the Gossip Girl blasts were never mentioned again.

 

* * *

 

**_FDR_ **

 

If Tuck wanted me to steal his idea then so be it. Can’t deny that it was smart to begin with, how he ditched me that one night and took Lauren to a circus.

Even with that memory it still didn’t feel like I was competing for Vanessa’s affections. It was an odd situation, being genuine friends first and then starting a real dating life again.

I’d like to say this was an amazing first date. I took her to the acrobatic tent in the middle of the main carnival and took Tuck’s advice by using the swings privately with her. Apparently she’s afraid of heights, but the joy and adrenaline in her eyes by the time we were bouncing in the net had to be real. You can’t fake that kind of thing.

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

Our first real date was at the shooting range. FDR will have you believe it was at that circus where I got to be an acrobat for the first time in my life ( _so_ cool), but after he almost _died_ he took me to a shooting range and I don’t care what he says because  _that_ was our first date.

Okay well... "almost died" is pushing it. He and Tuck and his other fellow agents completed a job where they were prepared for violence, and he prevented _me_ from dying.

I could tell he was terrified of putting me in danger, but it’s an odd feeling I have these days when it comes to him. I’m willing to risk it. This is a crazy new chapter in my life that I’m completely prepared to take. I’ve been in relationships where I was friends with the guy first, but this felt different. More exciting, more fun.

New. It felt new. And it felt real.  _  
_

I hadn’t been to a circus since I was a little girl and I barely remembered that time. Now it was less about the animals (because FDR knew I cared) and more about trapeze acts. This time I could feel young all over again, I felt like the world was my oyster when I toppled onto that net. But I still like to believe the shooting range where I almost punched FDR in the face from the backing my first gunshot caused was our real first date. I remember smiling at him afterwards, grateful he was giving us a chance.

I still like the frog plushy he won for me. And I know he likes the pink rabbit I won for _him_.

CIA agent? Bring it on. I can handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was honestly a lot of fun to write, even if it's just for me in the end. I LOVE crossovers and for some reason this really works for me. Hope whoever read it enjoyed it though, as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> I know I'll wanna write some oneshots between the two as well. Maybe another chapter fic oooh add this to a series that INCLUDED oneshots. Perhaps~


End file.
